It's Just History
by Cha-Cha-Cheesecake
Summary: Camelot may be gone but the legacy of the king's reign lives on in our hearts… and our history books. [post series]


Summary: Camelot may be gone but the legacy of the king's reign lives on in our hearts… and our history books. [post series]

It's Just History

An old man in a red woolly hat stood by the docks of Tintagel and watched as the tourists walked on by, complaining about the summer heat and the long flights of steps. People in these times relied too much on what amazing men of the past had invented, machines and devices that carried them for miles. Horseback was uncommon in this day and age, so he couldn't help but wonder how things had gotten this way… how had the people of this land gotten so… lazy?

Merlin watched in distaste as a child began to whine about their feet aching. When he was young, if he'd whined like that he would've been punished for his pitiful attitude, but this child's mother smiled at him kindly and told him to take a break, sitting down on a nearby bench.

Grumbling about the youth of today, Merlin truly did feel senile, but he kept it to himself and trekked over to a hillside stand where they sold a guilty pleasure of his - a delicacy they called 'ice-cream'. Of all the flavours, vanilla stuck out to him most. He felt drawn to it for some reason. Perhaps the simplicity of it? Perhaps the fact that while the strawberry and chocolate flavours hid behind the pretences of artificial colouring and flavouring, vanilla was simply as it was?

He wasn't entirely sure what it was about ice-cream that captivated him so much, but it did. The sweetness was shocking, intensifying, yet left a bitter taste in his mouth.

_If only others like me could have seen this world as it is today._

The daughter of the large man who was complaining how boring vanilla was clearly had no idea what she was talking about, in Merlin's eyes, as he took a first bite into the waffle cone.

Even if the ice-cream was good, he despised hanging around that area for too long - it was cramped and the people there were always doused in sweat and whining about the distance they'd travelled just to see the remains of a crumbling castle.

Each time he'd wanted to scream, "This castle is the best castle you will ever know. The secrets that lie in these walls have haunted me my entire life."

Somehow, he never found the right time or the right place to express these feelings, nor the right person to express them to. Because the one person who could share these feelings with him to the fullest was gone.

Perhaps that was for the best. A man as cradled in a nest of white lies and comfort wouldn't have been able to cope with such a rushed change of pace in the world.

So, with a sigh, Merlin began to climb down that hill, away from the castle he'd been to so many times, just to sit on the grassy floor outside the castle and remember what it was like to live in a castle that thrummed with life, thrived with a secret he kept that caused his routine to play out differently every he didn't feel like he could face it, somehow.

As he approached the small little line of shops he'd walked down countless times before, he remembered a small bookshop he'd stopped in once before that had books on the history of Camelot and stories of King Arthur. The first time he'd been there was twelve years ago, and it was the first time he had visited Tintagel. The memories had been too strong for him and he'd found himself unable to pick up those books and read what false truths had been written inside.

Instead, Merlin had simply stared at them until his vision blurred. What a sight it must've been to see, an old ragged fisherman welling up over books for children with illustrated covers and large block print. It had been a strong feeling, though, to see that the legacy of Camelot still lived on in people's minds and spirits, to see that not only magic, but the legend of King Arthur himself was woven into the fabrics of the world he knew today. The thought that Arthur lived on so long after his demise was enough to make the man begin to cry, generating strange looks from the other people in the shop.

However, now this was a memory Merlin could look back upon fondly, and he wasted no time in approaching the quaint little shop with an open mind. The shopkeeper, a spindly man with gradually greying hair and glasses with dark frames, scrutinised him as he entered the shop, the wind chimes above the door tinkling, the only sound in the entire shop. It seemed empty.

"Hey, didn't you come here once before?" the guy asked, frowning. Merlin nodded.

"Once, I think."

The man was nodding too now, certain of himself. "Uh huh. Now I remember. You were the strange hobo chap who started crying in the middle of my shop. Were you drunk?"

"No, I… sorry," Merlin grumbled. "I was in a bad place."

"Yeah, well, make sure not to let yourself go this time, okay?" the man laughed, shaking his head, before returning to behind the desk. Merlin, noting that retaliating would only result in him being removed from the shop, held his tongue and began to investigate the historical section. There weren't many shelves but two of them were entirely dedicated to Camelot and the history of King Arthur, a story which he knew all too well.

One in particular stood out; a rich red book with a large picture of a prince with pinprick eyes and rosy cheeks, titled _The Life and Times of Arthur Pendragon_.

He wasn't sure what made it so special, but he felt drawn to the simple, smiling face on the front cover. Perhaps it was because he'd never seen an Arthur with such an unkempt expression before. Even if it was only a drawing (and not a very accurate one at that), it was still a rare sight to see and it made Merlin laugh despite himself.

As he opened the book, it only made him chuckle more.

_Arthur was born to Uther Pendragon, but the king did not feel his baby was safe, so contacted his old friend and previous mentor, Merlin the Wizard, to raise his son to be a respectable young man while keeping him hidden from rivalling kingdoms._

He, Merlin, an old friend of Uther's? That was laughable. How'd he even end up in a history book, anyway, as Merlin the Wizard? What kind of a title was that? And the most pressing matter… Merlin, raising Arthur as a baby?

That was probably the funniest thing he'd heard of in years.

"What're you laughing at?!" the shopkeeper grunted from the corner. Merlin coughed lightly and shrugged, mental images of Arthur's baby steps pitter-pattering through his mind like tiny footprints.

Would that make Merlin his mother hen, teaching young Arthur Pendragon the ways of the world, throwing in the odd touch of magic here and there? Maybe, if Uther was an old friend and Merlin was able to show Arthur that magic wasn't all bad…

Maybe then their lives could've been different.

"Hey! Are you paying attention to me?" the shopkeeper snapped. "I asked you what was so funny, old man."

Merlin found himself chuckling again; despite the decades, even centuries that had passed since he'd gotten old, being called an old man still sounded strange to him. He'd always imagined growing old as something to deal with in his own time. Only time had always flowed differently for him, hadn't it? The rest of the world had woven around him to fit his shape.

Merlin turned to the shopkeeper and smiled, eyes crinkling.

"…Just an old geezer's inside joke."

The man stood in front of him rolled his eyes and headed back towards the counter again.

"Honestly, you tourists are so bizarre. What's so great about a teenage king and his loyal magician friend? I'll never know."

Merlin cracked a smile. To think this was a guy living in a town revolving around the legend of said teenage king and loyal magician.

"Me neither," laughed Merlin.

_Even if he is the man I will always stand by, when it comes down to it, he was just a young king as worthy of his title as any other._

"I suppose it just draws you in, doesn't it? The thought that such a king could become something so great while starting out so small…"

"Eh, I don't know," the man at the till shrugged. "To me, it's just history."

"And to others it is a life they lived," Merlin smiled. Shutting the book, he reached into his rucksack and pulled out a few coins. "I'd like to buy this, please."

"Hm? Sure," the man shrugged, scanning the book with the barcode and taking the coins. As he handed the book back to him and Merlin turned to go, he called out, "Have a nice life, old man."

"Strange parting words, for a customer," Merlin replied, with an aged grin, before leaving the silent bookshop behind, the chimes the only sound following his footsteps.

* * *

A/N: RUSHED ENDING IS RUSHED! orz

Ah geez, I'm so not cut out for writing Merlin fanfiction. I tried to write one… once… and it failed so miserably I vowed never to upload it. Still, I think this is a decent piece by my standards. The book is fictional, even though I did once see a book with a similar cover when I visited Tintagel with my family a few years ago. I can't remember much about the trip though, so my knowledge of locations and things like that are a bit limited.

Anyway, I may have been disappointed with the final scene, but it gave me inspiration to write this, so I can't really hate on it at all. All I can say is, I am so glad the series rounded off on such a shippy finale. My inner Merthur/Gwercival fangirl was crying real tears.


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